Cool Dead People by Suzanne Nielsen
Vachel as in Rachel
by Suzanne Nielsen
We must have many Lincoln-hearted men
A city is not buil[t] in a day
And they must do their work, and come and go
While countless generations pass away.
Taken from the poem “On The Building of Springfield,” by Vachel Lindsay
“I see prophets,” were most likely the words poet Vachel Lindsay whispered to himself at twenty-five, the summer of 1904, after proclaiming his first spiritual vision. Two years later when Lindsay’s visions became more frequent he took to the road walking from Jacksonville, Florida to Kentucky, over 600 miles. Lindsay intended this walk (to be followed by two other walks across country in 1908 and then again in 1912) as his opportunity to commence a new gospel through reciting his poetry, an idea that undoubtedly came to him during a vision.
It was during this time Lindsay channeled the Gospel of Beauty, stating, “We should make our own home and neighborhood the most democratic, the most beautiful and the holiest in the world…they [children] should, if led by the spirit, wander over the whole nation in search of the secret of democratic beauty with their hearts at the same time filled to overflowing with the righteousness of God.” As adults they ought to return to where they came from and encroach upon their neighborhoods “their special art,” which, in fact, is exactly what Lindsay did.
These walks encompassed several months, wherein Lindsay would approach farms along the way stating, “I want a night’s lodging. I will give in exchange an entertainment think Lindsay most likely lay drowning in a perverse sorrow on the morning of December 5th.this evening, or half a day’s work tomorrow” (Lindsay, 1968, p. 198). When Lindsay felt hungry or tired, usually right before noon and then again right before 5:00 p.m., he would approach farmsteads handing over a copy of his self published illustrated book titled Rhymes to be Traded for Bread: The Gospel of Beauty, to the head of the household.
He rallied in the idea of performing for his keep, and wanted his audience to feel as though they were at a vaudeville show. However, Lindsay stated in his letters, “People are far too sentimental about my begging days, and talk as though they were over. I stand ready to beg tomorrow and to the end of the chapter, rather than write a line I do not want to write, recite for a routine audience, or go through any parrot or ape performances, even if [I] am parroting and aping what I myself happened to be, twenty-four hours ago” (p. 278).
Lindsay held his last dramatic performance only hours before his death in December of 1931, at 52 years of age saying repeatedly that he was an old man and his life and work were over. It was reported that he died of heart failure. Soon before death Lindsay stated, “Concerning death sometimes we desire it: from desperation, exasperation, or from world weariness, from mere numbness of soul (Masters, 1969, p. 171).
Born Nicholas Vachel Lindsay on November 10, 1879 in Springfield, Illinois to a medical doctor and his wife, he was the apple of his mother’s eye. Masters, who wrote the first biography on Lindsay states, “He came into the world long and thin and old looking, and with what is called a prophet’s veil over his face. It is deemed lucky to be born with the caul over the face; it is a sure preservation against drowning” (1969, p. 26).
Lindsay’s contemporaries included Sara Teasdale, with whom it is speculated he was in love with, Ezra Pound, Carl Sandburg and Edgar Lee Masters. With Lindsay’s first successful publication of his famous poem, “General William Booth Enters into Heaven,” he was advised by his editor to drop Nicholas from his name and make certain that his followers recognized the correct pronunciation of “Vachel as in Rachel.”
Lindsay had a peculiar relationship with his parents, especially his mother. Born to devout Campbellites, Lindsay’s father warned his son early on about the deviancies that sexual experiences inspired. As a result Lindsay often had complicated relationships with women, including his mother. It is said that Lindsay idolized women, but I think it was more complicated than that. I think underneath that idolization Lindsay harbored deep resentment toward women while suppressing homophobic ideations. “She [Mother] was a holy terror to all those who were not prepared to dispute every inch of the way with her. To live with her was like being valet to the Pope in the Vatican and being a Protestant at the same time, making tactful efforts to conceal it” (Lindsay, 1968, p. 16).
Lindsay’s mother was extremely protective of her only son and became even more so when two of his three siblings died in childhood. Both his parents had hoped their son would follow in the footsteps of his father and become a doctor. Lindsay did study medicine for two years at Hiram College in Ohio. However the would-be poet transferred to the Chicago Art Institute and then went on to study art at the New York School of Art. When Lindsay’s mother died in 1922, he suffered a breakdown that left him suffering with occasional bouts of delusion. Three years later Lindsay married a woman half his age and had two children.
It was at this time Lindsay first began to notice heart problems. Lindsay’s six-year marriage slowly deteriorated over time, resulting in Lindsay being abusive on several occasions. As with any dysfunctional marriage, Lindsay’s wife did not acknowledge publicly the dysfunction while still married; however four years later she privately confessed to Edgar Lee Masters what her life had been like. At this time she also disclosed to Masters that Lindsay’s doctor had concealed the truth about the actual cause of death; Lindsay’s death, his wife confessed, was by suicide due to Lysol consumption. Four years after Lindsay’s death Edgar Lee Masters wrote the truth in his biography titled, Vachel Lindsay: A Poet in America.
Routine is a beast to be slain. —Vachel Lindsay
This year during the month of May I took to the road, not on foot, but in my ever-reliable Saturn. My traveling friend Susan was with me; three years previous we’d left from the same spot, her front door in South Minneapolis, to drive to Pittsburgh to interview Hilary Masters, the son of Edgar Lee Masters for my dissertation. We didn’t have a map or a keen sense of direction, but we made it there and back only going 500 miles out of our way.
This time we were headed to Springfield, Illinois, home of the big guy, Abe Lincoln. Ironically we were also in pursuit of Petersburg, Illinois, not more than 30 miles from Springfield, to visit the house that Edgar Lee Masters grew up in—six degrees of separation.
Once in Springfield we toured the Lincoln sites to include the house where Lincoln lived. Holding the railing going upstairs the tour guide inferred would be like experiencing “shaking Lincoln’s hand.” That evening we went on a ghost tour with a different guide who claimed to be a descendant of Lincoln’s. Springfield has to grab tourists coming in for Lincoln is all they have to go on, or so we thought. Then we saw the Vachel Lindsay house on 603 South Fifth Street, which had formerly been owned by a sister of Mary Todd Lincoln (there’s that six degrees again). It was Saturday afternoon on Memorial Day weekend (six degrees). We were the only visitors the site administrator had seen for a while so we received a grand tour to include a signed poster of the poet for only $3.00.
My only familiarity of Lindsay at the time was his poem about Booth, but after an hour Susan and I felt connected to this poet, possibly descendants. Lindsay’s artwork hung on all the walls throughout the house. In the bedroom that was his hung a picture of Lindsay with his mother. Eeriness in their expressions followed me back to our motel where I emailed Hilary Masters asking him if he thought Lindsay was gay.
Later that night I googled Lindsay’s poem, Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight. “ The following stanza mirrors a descriptive quality Masters gives us earlier of the caul:
A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,
A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl
Make him the quaint great figure that men love,
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.
I started reading Lindsay’s Adventures: Rhymes & Designs, which implied more degrees of separation. My son was born on November 10th, the same day as Lindsay. He’s a storyteller too. Lindsay was 52 when he died; I’ll be 52 this July. Lindsay thought of life as a circus; Masters wrote, “He [Lindsay] saw that every soul is a circus…and when he dreamed of heaven it was of a celestial circus” (1969, p. 352). Life is a circus, is it not? Lindsay resented routine and loved road trips. Me too! Lindsay balanced stubbornness and humor with precision.
So does Susan. Lindsay discovered Langston Hughes; Hughes was working as a busboy in a restaurant where he approached Lindsay with his poems. That evening Lindsay read Hughes’ work to a gathered crowd and … the rest is history, just like the brilliant biography Edgar Lee Masters wrote. Had it not been for Edgar Lee Masters we never would have taken this road trip. Lindsay’s house and his history were happenstance. Thinking back as I stood at the foot of the bed that Lindsay died in I couldn’t help but I see prophets, is what I whisper to myself upon closing this piece in honor of Vachel Lindsay. The prophet I see says, “It’s Vachel as in Rachel.”
The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart.
He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main.
He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now
The bitterness, the folly and the pain.
Taken from “Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight”— Vachel Lindsay
One Response to “Cool Dead People by Suzanne Nielsen”
Comments
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
You are a goddess. Vachel rocks and makes me feel like half a writer for not hoofing it and making an effort to earn my keep bard-style.
Your biggest fan,
Laurel